Illusions
by Goddess of the sacred river
Summary: Just something I wrote about Hermione's love for Harry.. let me know if you liked it.
1. The shattering of an illusion

Disclaimer: no, Harry Potter and his friends aren't mine. They are creations of the almighty J.K. Rowling. Hail!

Special thanks to tamar-shaki who inspired me to translate this fic from Dutch to English.

I apologise for the mistakes I have made while writing this story, my English isn't that good.

Illusions

Slowly it dawned. De golden sunrays shone carefully over the horizon at first, but a few minutes later the land sparkled in a golden light, too bright to look in, but enthrallingly beautiful nonetheless. For some, at least.

Others, still in bed, woke up unwillingly, cursing the sun. The sun, not caring, shone merciless over England, the cities, the countryside with its little villages and meadows, and over something perhaps isolated but sometimes busier than London on a saturday afternoon: Hogwarts, high school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Most Hogwarts' pupils were the kind of lie-abed people who cursed the sun: just like Hermione did. As the first sunrays shone through the chinks in the curtains round her bed, she sighed and opened her eyes, tired. Nearly sleepwalking she got up, dressed, grabbed her stuff, like she has done every single morning since she came here, now four years ago.

It wasn't until she saw her reflection in the little pocket mirror she used to comb her hair that she really woke up. The face staring back at her was hers, but it could have been anyone else's, just a random fifteen-year-old girl's face. Did she really have this despairingly curly brown hair? A tip-tilted nose, uneven skin, too big ears? Every other person looking at her would notice she had white teeth and had a good figure.

But not Hermione. She only saw what she never had and probably never would have.

And if she would never have all that, she would never be more than a weird bookworm, somebody nice to have as a friend when you hadn't studied for your test, and never, never ever only a little bit more. Only few people looked at her as an attractive girl, and she knew it. Even though she always pretended she did not care, she would have given all her knowledge for a little bit of beauty.

Belinda, pulling her arm, pulled her vigorously out her thoughts. She stood, grabbed her bag and walked down to the great hall, determined to leave her thoughts today for what they were. But some way or another she didn't succeed: she kept seeing her reflection in her glass of pumpkin juice, and no matter much she tried to concentrate on her cornflakes, out of the corner of her eye she could see him, and even if she closed her eyes his image burned on her retina.

He had black hair, which somehow wouldn't stay flat, and his glasses had slipped to the edge of his nose. Emerald green eyes looked at her investigating, and, shaking herself out of this trance, she bent again over her breakfast. It wasn't even necessary to look at him. She had done that so often she could call every single pore of his face to mind, something she did only too often. In fact, for four years, since she had met him on the train he hadn't disappeared from her dreams and thoughts.

And of course she had tried to make him notice her, she had used all her seduction tricks, and those weren't that many. It was no use. He saw her as a friend, a good one; it's true, but no more than that. Like he didn't realise she paid attention in class, worked hard for high grades, to impress HIM, and like he didn't knew every time he called her "friend" or talked about Cho Chang he sent a stung through her heart.

Yes, she loved Harry Potter, and yes, he didn't love her.

She sat in the History of Magic classroom, at her favourite chair, in the left at the window. Not only she could see the leaves falling from there, something her fellow students seemed to think very interesting, she could also, thanks to the reflecting of the glass see Harry sit, right behind her. Most of the times she paid attention, but when by Binns' drooling on and on the rest of the class laid in a deep coma her thoughts wandered too, now and then. And often to the one subject she didn't want to think about, because she had assured herself it was an illusion, and nothing more.

Behind her Harry moved his foot. Hermione startled and began to write notes down mechanically on the piece of empty parchment in front of her. But no matter how much she tried to concentrate at whatever Binns was reading along, she noticed, much to her annoyance, she was doodling little hearts at her parchment. Hearts!

She stopped quickly. She had always laughed at those weirdoes who drew little hearts everywhere and longed and humiliated themselves for some stupid boy, and now she was doing it herself. She flew into an enormous temper. What did the stupid git think she was, an IQ-less mouse running after him like that, dreaming about him?

No, from now on she had had it with love and everything dealing with it.

Determined she turned her attention back to Binns. A little piece of paper flew through the air and landed next to her arm.

"Hermione, can I copy your notes?

I can't do it without you. Harry."

She smiled. Even if he wasn't in love with her, he needed her. But she still wrote "no!" at the back and threw it back. He would have to do something himself one day, and she wouldn't humiliate herself anymore. The piece of paper landed at her table one more time. Irritated Hermione read it.

"Dear Hermione, please?"

Dear? Since when did he call her so? She nodded slightly and put the battered piece of paper in her bag. When she looked out of the window again, she noticed the sun shone through the clouds and put a golden light over her head.

What did Cho Chang have she didn't, except for beauty, a charming appearance and talent on the quidditch pitch? Did Harry think she had not seen him, staying close to her like that when the DA (HER idea) practiced? Did he think nobody noticed that no matter how much she messed up, Harry always thought her charms good? While she was much better at everything he didn't seem to notice her. O, to be like Cho!

The last few days she had been thinking about giving Harry a love potion. One time she had been on the verge of grabbing the book she needed from the shelf, but her love for obeying the rules took over.

It was no use. She would have to let him go. That was why she sat writing a letter to Krum, even though he wasn't by far as nice as Harry and she only was glad with the attention he gave her. But it seemed she had to be content with every little crumb of love that was offered to her.

She startled when Harry came in. There was something about him; she could see it in his slightly flushed cheeks and his eyes, shining even brighter that normal. After 4,5 year she knew all his moods, but she hadn't seen this one before. Then it struck her: _Cho_. Of course. Bitter she bent herself over her paper. 'What's up, Harry?' she asked and she was surprised at the sharpness of her voice. Surely, after 4,5 years she must have learned to control her emotions? Harry remained silent. 'Is it Cho?' Now he coloured and stared at the ground. _Your own fault,_ she thought angrily. 'Did you kiss?' Her voice sounded good, indifferent, and even a little chilly. Harry looked up and nodded shortly. Even though she had already known it, she felt like someone had thrown a brick in her stomach. She breathed heavily. _Don't let anything show now, I've still got my pride. _

Ron asked whom she was writing. 'Victor'. She said. 'Didn't you know? We write each other often.' _So. _Let him feel I've got someone who cares about me as well, let him feel I'm not a pathetic girl who can't get a boyfriend.

She sat with the boys for a while, listening to their banal talk, but as soon as she got the chance she escaped and went upstairs, to her dormitory she shared with four others. Nobody was there; she sat on her bed and cried.

Images of Harry and Cho together hovered before her eyes. Close to each other, lips pressed together, tongues circling around each other trying to get as closest to each other as possible. Harry's hands touching her hear, her breasts, her hips...

All this time she had been in love with him, she had hoped against hope at every little sign of affection. No her daydream splintered like the mirror she broke in agony; in the end it proved to be nothing more than she had always told herself: an illusion.

To the persons who read this (did anybody read this at all?): I hope you enjoyed reading my story as much as I did writing it (and I enjoyed that a lot) and I hope you didn't fell asleep halfway. Reviews would be nice, but you can't have everything in life. Or perhaps you can.


	2. After the pain

DISCLAIMER: still not mine :(

To tamar-shaki, Psychoangel and Hermione Rae: thanks for reviewing. You made my day!

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Slowly it dusked. Hermione didn't notice. She still lay in the same position as three hours ago, when she fell down on her bed, crying. Her eyes were closed, and her fists balled, like she could avert fate that way. Her hair had escaped from her hair-ribbon and hung in knots on her back. She breathed calmly now, even, not falteringly, as in the beginning. She floated in some kind of vacuum between being awake and sleeping, in which you feel yourself glide away, and you know that even if you'd want to, you couldn't move: still you do not sleep.

Hermione noticed the sheets against her body, and the icing cold of an unheated dormitory, but she didn't care.

In fact she was surprised she still was there. That she hadn't, like in those romantic stories, with titles as "in his arms" and "burning desire" just died, disappearing forever. That nobody wrote the last letter and said "this is a good end, let leave it like this". That she wouldn't wallow in sadness and hysterical outbursts of rage till eternity. _Life goes on_. Now matter how cliché, it was true. And in fact that was the worst.

In the beginning you feel intensely sad, furious, deeply unhappy, but you can allow your emotions to drag you away, like a warm wave of tears. But later, later when you lie on your bed and you're cold and you should turn on the heating or go downstairs and what will the others think? then you are truly alone. For all your feelings have forsaken you and what remains is a knot, in the bottom of your stomach, a suffocating feeling: you feel worthless. And though you want to lie there forever the rational part of you tells you to move on. And you don't want to.

Carefully she turned on her other side and put the blanket over her legs. The pinched off blood vessels in her legs started prickling. For years she had been in love with Harry, and even though she had never said anything about it and never done more than looking at him and hinting subtle, she had been happy. At least, she realised it now. Because she had been able to fool herself, tell herself he loved her too, and didn't dare say anything as well. Being in love with someone who (what a coincidence!) loved her too, had always seemed something magical too her. Something for princesses in fairytales and overly romantic girls willing to fall in love with anyone.

But she had done it herself too, worshipping somebody while staying in the shadows, and she had made the same stupid mistakes. Thinking of Cho sent cool fury through her body. Not the angry kind of fury, the one she had had a few hours ago, of wanting to cut her throat and more such things, but the cool fury of someone looking up powerless to a girl towering above her who has taken her most precious treasure.

Because love is selfish, and anyone saying something else lies. All the stories of doing everything for someone you love and wanting that person to be happy are based on an insatiable selfishness. Hermione didn't give a damn whether Harry was happier with Cho than with her, or if she was 'the one' for him, for it did not untie the knot in her stomach.

Nobody had come to see her. Nobody. Seemly, nobody cared if she wasn't there for three hours or not, not even Ron or Harry. Her mind told her Harry could think of nothing but Cho, and that they weren't allowed in the girls' dormitory anyway, but she didn't listen. No girl had come either. She was even more worthless than she had thought before. And suddenly, with a weird kind of logic, something struck her. _Tell Harry how you feel. Tell him you were in love with him. Are._ Of course this wasn't a smart move, the thinking part of her said sternly. Where did you get the idea? That boy has fallen head over heels for Cho, and you'll just have to accept it. You are not going to ruin his happiness with your selfish feelings. Do you hear me; you're not going to. _But I want to. _

She rose from her bed. Her energy returned. Her legs protested, but she ignored the flaming pain. She didn't care what he would think, or that her eyes were red because she cried so much or that she would probably lose courage when she would see him. She had to do this. Now.

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Thanks for reading this story. Ideas and constructive criticism are very welcome, hint, hint. Compliments too by the way.


	3. Listen to me, please

DISCLAIMER: What does the word fanfaction tell you? Exactly, not mine.

Much love and thanks to Hermione Rae, tamar-shaki, HarryNDracosdarlin and ibogal for reviewing. You really cheered me up! I'm sorry updating took so long.

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She hurried off the stairs. _Common room_. No, he wasn't there. Most of the chairs were empty, the only ones sitting there were a few noisy first years who looked surprised at her as she ran past them. What now? _Library_. Out of breath she arrived there. She smoothed her robe, re-did her hair, took a deep breath and went inside. He wasn't here either. Damn. Stupid boy. Come to think about it, the library was also nearly empty. Where did everybody go? Of course, how stupid of here. They were all eating! A rumbling noise under her feet proved her theory had been right; groups of students came up the stairs, at ease. Outside the library she waited, but she didn't see a face familiar to her. Perhaps he still was in the Great Hall. Her energy renewed she ran down the broad, monumental stairs.

Instead of looking where she placed her feet, Hermione only thought of possible scenarios for her talk with Harry. Deep down she knew he would probably pity her or something other horrible, like looking at her with a compassionate look and saying he had never seen her as more than a friend. That he had never known he had meant so much to her, and that he hoped this wouldn't destroy their friendship. Her favourite daydream said something else. In that he said he had been in love with her for years, and that he had always been afraid that she would not notice him. That she would fall into his arms and be happy forever. The chance that this would happen was less than zero, but she couldn't restrain herself from hoping on it, secretly.

Frightened she noticed this feeling was in fact nothing else but a boundless greed, of wanting to have something that isn't possible and still hoping for it. something like winning the lottery or get 11 out of 10 on a test. Of love, divided between egoism and greed, didn't rested much. So fretting herself she continued to walk, only looking up when she bumped hard into someone.

With a bang she fell on the ground. Without looking up at the person she had walked into, she snapped: 'watch where you're go..' The words got stuck in her throat. 'Hermione!' Harry exclaimed surprised, and he held out his hand to help her get up. 'Why weren't you at dinner?' Hermione blushed and stared at the ground. 'Didn't feel like it', she mumbled. Not completely lied. She was on her feet again, and looked in his eyes, shyly. As always she marvelled at the bright colour green they had. She knew nobody with green eyes like that, and his glasses only drew more attention to their colour. When she noticed Harry was looking at her curiously she averted her eyes quickly. 'Are you okay?' he asked, he sounded worried. Quickly she nodded. It was best to say it now, that for what she had been looking for him. Now, before it would be too late. Just a second ago she had been determined, now her legs were made of pudding and she thought that, on second thought, it was better to say nothing at all.

'_Coward'_ she hissed. Harry looked at her surprised. 'um' he said. Hermione startled. Had she really said that out loud? He must think she was crazy or something. It was now or never. He opened his mouth. In a second he would propose to go to the common room or somewhere else and then the perfect moment would be over. Scraping together her courage she cleared her throat: 'Harry, uh, I need to talk to you.'

Harry looked like he hadn't been expecting this, _of course not, stupid_ the voice in her head said, but he nodded. 'Fine, why don't we go for a walk?' Hermione nodded. Walk. Okay. Forcing her legs to move she walked next to him further off the stairs. She had truly believed her love would fade, with the years, but now it was worse than ever: her hands were all sweaty and her heart beat in her throat. Silently she cursed herself. Look how she behaved! Wasn't it ridiculous she couldn't even walk next to a friend? Harry didn't spoke, but looked at the ground instead. From his posture she was able to see he was wondering what it would be she wanted to talk about. This was pathetic, that she was able to read his mind from the way he spread his shoulder muscles, just because she had done nothing but looking at him for years.

When they walked outside he still did not look at her. He examined the grass under his feet instead. The weather was good, except for a few clouds, and although is was chilly there were many other students, and a few couples walk hand in hand in the twilight, their heads close together. Jalousie stung Hermione as she looked at the two in front of them; their heads were bent to each other, they softly whispered something to each other, not aware of the rest of the world. To walk like that with Harry... _No, stop, wrong thought._ That would never happen.

At an old tree on the border of the lake they stopped. Harry sat down and looked at her, questioningly. Vaguely she realised she had to say it now, and she cursed herself for not preparing this. Seldom she had so impetuously done such a stupid thing. But she couldn't back out anymore, he expected her to say something.

She took a deep breath and blurted it out, only not how she had expected it to sound.

'I um, there is something you should know. About me. And about you, but more about me. I, um, I think I'm in love with you.'

Harry tried to say something, but she gestured him to keep silent. Dead nervous and blushing she continued.

'In fact I'm sure. That I like you more than just as a friend, I mean. For a very long time.'

'How long?' his voice sounded unusually bitter, the words pronounced short and edgy.

'Actually ever since we met on the first day at Hogwarts... I don't know what to do anymore' she added, now feeling very desperate and ridiculous. Slowly she looked up to meet his eyes. What she saw shocked her. Different from how she had always seen them, his eyes were no longer shining like stars, supposing there are green stars. The looked dull, and even worse, slowly began to reflect the emotion she had feared the most: anger.

He looked around like a rabbit in a fix, seeing the hunter approach. When he spoke his words had nothing of their usual softness, he nearly snapped.

'I can't believe this. I CANNOT believe you never told me anything of this. Never. I thought we were friends. I trusted you. You didn't say a word. All this time I thought you were the only person I could fully trust, even in matters concerning Cho. I thought you were a friend, not someone just stalking me because she has fallen in love with me. And now, now Cho and I , well, you know, now you come to tell me that. You know what to do? Just leave. I don't want to see you anymore. This isn't possible. It can't be. Just leave!'

His voice broke down and he turned abruptly to run away. Stupefied Hermione stared at the ground. She had not know what his reaction would be like, but she had never expected this. Now she felt empty, like all her emotions had been drained from her body.

She sat on the soggy grass, crying softly

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Thanks for reading this chapter, I hope you liked it.

Just for the record, I love reviews.


	4. No title yet

Illusions, chapter four. No title yet.

Lots of love to tamar-shaki, Raine Is Crazy, JustChillinDude and nikka for their awesome reviews, and of course my eternal gratitude to ChibiAlania, who betaed this chapter.

If you notice any mistakes, blame her:)

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O. My. God. How had she been able to do such a stupid thing? She had obviously done this completely wrong. Of course he ran away, she'd scared him. How incredibly stupid of her. He was frightened, of course, also for their friendship, or what was left of it. Next time she'd do it completely different.

Whatever. She was just fooling herself. There would be no next time, never again. What is more cruel than hearing that the words you didn't say to him for years because you didn't want to hurt him hurt him because you never said them? This reasoning made her head ache. And it didn't matter anymore.

_My heart is broken. _She smiled bitterly. Beautiful clichés.

Somebody tapped on her shoulder. For one second she held her breath and then she let it go, when she noticed it was just a girl. Not someone she knew. 'Yes?' she said, and the word came out sharper than she'd meant it to. The girl seemed to be taken aback by her blunt reaction.

'Well, is something wrong? Your just sitting on the grass, looking sad and crying, and we have to be inside in a minute.' She looked genuinely worried, but Hermione ignored that. Who did the stupid kid think she was, being nosy and not minding her own business? The last thing she needed right now was somebody who pitied her. People already pitied her so often.

'No!' she shouted, answering the first question. She jumped up and slapped the kid. The girl startled and ran away in the direction of the castle. A few times she saw her looking back, frightened. _Good._ That felt fantastic. She should have hit Harry just like that. Then her thoughts started their, already familiar, circle. _No, it wasn't Harry's fault. He couldn't help it. These are my feelings, so it's my problem, right? _

The good of it was that she wasn't able to feel her "heartache" to throw in another cliché, that good. Perhaps pain has to be less painful to allow you to fully feel it, just like you can't see a hand closely held before the eye. Or she was just the insufferable bitch he said she was.

She was on her feet again and walking slowly towards the castle.

For one time in her life, she actually had some luck. Nobody in the common room she knew, nobody she would have to talk to and who would ask annoying questions.

Well, she didn't know that many people.

_And, be honest with yourself, you're glad that Harry isn't here. Yes, don't look so innocent, admit it. You're too sad to talk to him, and you're too proud to show him you cried because of him. My god, Hermione, pride, what do you have to be proud of? _Friends. _You have just lost half of them. _Intelligence. _Things you've read in books. _Beauty. _Hardly any. _A boyfriend. _Let's not talk about that. _No, you're right. _Of course honey. I'm always right. _Was she talking to herself now?

(…..)

A few hours later and she sat on a bed in the Girls' Dormitory, at least that was what she thought. In fact it was so dark she couldn't see anything at all. She was sitting on her own bed, or was it Belinda's? From the other beds she heard the even breathing of the other girls, and occasionally some snoring. (and they all said they didn't snore, ha!)

Hermione herself couldn't sleep. Not that she was worried about something or so, no, not at all, she just couldn't sleep. And that meant she tossed and rolled in her bed, or ran frustrated circles in the dormitory. It was a miracle she hadn't woken up anyone yet.

Not that she wanted to sleep, by the way. She once read somewhere that if you stay up long enough and are tired enough you'd sleep dreamlessly.

A nice theory, worth testing.

(…..)

And it worked. The only negative part was that falling asleep took so much time she now slept during class. Not that that mattered, now Harry was no longer there to copy her notes.

_Dear diary, _

_How are you? I'm fine. I only thought of him fifteen times today, plus the times I saw him of course. He no longersits next to me, but he keeps looking at me. Why would he do that? You don't know of course. Why would I tell you then? I should study instead of talking to you. But I don't have my notes, cos he sat in front of me. Shall I ask for his notes? We were friends once. But you don't know that either. Shall I tell you something? _

_I HATE DIARIES! _

Frustrated she closed it. Stupid thing. It was Ginny who had suggested it to her. And she was the only one who understood her. At first she had just laughed at her. The idea! Dear diary, disgusting. But Ginny had persuaded her, by saying it was delicious, telling the paper all your secrets, and that sometimes it even seemed like the paper talked back. Well it had been so in her case. But it remains a piece of paper, right?

And she should be studying. She was a prefect, she was supposed to be an example to the rest. She still thought notes important. More important then, em, other things. And persons. But she still didn't have her notes. She looked around her, in the common room where she had been sitting with her 'diary'. Harry and Ron weren't there. She had no idea where they were. Harry avoided her, that's for sure, and Ron followed him like a puppy.

She could ask one of the girls, but they would certainly tell everybody that she, the Great Hermione, slept during class. She couldn't cope with that. She'd have to use a sneaky solution.

So she looked carefully around her, and when she noticed everybody ignored her, as usual, she went up the stairs to the Boys' Dormitory. Harry's notes, though neither detailed nor much, were easily to find. She got them and put the rest of the parchment papers back. A few things fell out of her hands, and when she grabbed them she noticed one of them was a letter. She was about to put it back when she saw what was written on top of it: _Dear Hermione,. _Her heart stopped beating. The letter was dated two months ago. Before he had said all those terrible things. Her eyes wandered over the letter. At first they grew big with happiness, but as she read the end of the letter she felt lonely again.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sorry for this letter. I only wanted to say some things to you, but whenever I see you I'm never able to find the right words. I wanted to thank you for letting me copy your notes. Next time I'll try to stay awake, I promise. _

_I always wanted to say so much to you, but I never did and apparently it's so worse now I even dream of you. So I decided to write. _

_I wanted to thank you for, well, supporting me, also with Cho etc. But, I don't know, one way or another you are more special to me, than Cho I mean. Perhaps because I've known you for so long and you're such a great friend. _

_So thank you._

_Harry._

He had wanted to give her a letter? It didn't matter how clumsy it all was, the thought made her happier than she had been for the last – what - year? Suddenly she heard something move behind her. She turned and saw that somebody was slowly opening the door.

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Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. At the moment I'm very stuck with chapter five, so ideas and comments are very welcome. (as are title suggestions)


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